saturday

marked alleyway,
squeeze the exiting shade,
the hexagonal leaky light that comes in waves,
comes in particle pieces,
sometimes the high dive is the best place for a non swimmer like me,
them dense bones that go crashing into the plastic rubber water plane,
shattering the fear of drowning one bodacious leap at a time

high water marked the prayer lines that used to be at my knees,
dented knees from folding myself into the napkin flower that cleaned up all the spilt forgiveness you couldn't drink up,
so we went on hunting for something else to fill your cup,
while i walked around with sailors' knots in my gut

at 26 years old - i'm too tired to be bitter anymore,
also lack the sympathy to really dig into your roots of sadness full fledged,
and now is the time for endless work,
like i wasn't working endlessly before this whole whirlwind of double shift weekends,
and stacking jobs atop each other just to pay for the work i already did
and all my friends just want to be laughing kids